Cosas de tu cuerpo, cosas de mi voz predicando en el desierto de tu absurdo corazon. Things of Love What does the Calvary matter if to love you is to suffer Or that you play with marked cards What matters are the nights spent with you, even if in return you tear my soul

What do I care about life? What's the point of living if I don't have your hot body? What matters is to touch you and to quench this thirst, that only your fountain quenches for me.

Without you nothing has value, and for that I'm yours, slave and gentleman

Things of love Things of life You are my golden eagle And I'm your injured gazelle

Things of your flesh Things of your skin That drags me through the waves like a paper boat

Things of love, Things of life You cause me pain and you heal my wounds

Things of your body, things of my voice preaching in the desert about your absurd heart

Why do I want air if I breath of you? Why do I want light or windows if to feel you on my skin is enough and to know that you love me anyway

What does it matter to wait for you a thousand and one more times If in the end you eliminate the time What matters is to see you in silence and to know that perhaps without having you I have you.

That with out you nothing has value and that's why I'm yours, slave and gentleman

Things of love Things of life You are my golden eagle And I'm your injured gazelle

Things of your flesh Things of your skin That drags me through the waves like a paper boat

Things of love, Things of life You cause me pain and you heal my wounds

Things of your body, things of my voice preaching in the desert about your absurd heart